Come What May
by Leizu
Summary: Carlisle's story of how he became a vampire in 1600's England. Was Esme really his first love?
1. All I Can Breathe is Your Life

**OK new fic time :) This has been in the works for quite a while, and thanks to jensmuse, Twicali and the other ladies at forum for inspiration to carry it on! This fic also owes a lot to Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls (actually, I have my own playlist so if you want it, PM me). I know it's not really congruent with a lot of what Stephenie wrote about Carlisle's backstory and I have tried to stick to the canon as much as possible, but there were a few historical inaccuracies so I've gone with what's right historically. I hope you like this one guys! Also, note: I speak NO LATIN. It could easily be wrong, and if it is, a correction would be welcome :)**

* * *

Carlisle sat rigidly on an old wooden chair as his father paced in front of him, deliberating. His face was stern, although this was nothing out of the ordinary. He generally disapproved of many of Carlisle's choices, beginning with his declination to study theology, but this was partly because he knew that Carlisle only stayed because he worried for him. His health was failing him and he became increasingly weak. What he wasn't aware of was Carlisle's _other_ reason to stay. The incarnation of perfection that held him to the small diocese. Elinor Barling. He allowed himself to think a little of her while his father paced, trying not to move an inch. Her hair shimmered in sunshine, wavy and coal black. It fell down her back to her hips in thick ringlets. At least, it fell down her back because she pushed it there. He smiled inwardly, knowing how she hated it to cover her face- any why wouldn't she, with such a face as hers? Her skin was pale, quietly beautiful in its delicacy, and her eyes were the most startling shade of green. It was enchanting. She looked fragile, like a mild winter would be the death of her. He knew he wanted to marry her, but be hadn't the courage to ask her father. He was the local butcher and had refused to partake in the witchunts organised by his father, believing them to be ludicrous. In fairness to him, they had never been successful, and Carlisle knew that to stir up the parish in that manner was unwise, but more often than not the people had stirred themselves up without outside influences. He also, much to Carlisle's dismay, refused to call him Carlisle. This was partly due to the fact that Carlisle was only a nickname of sorts- his mother had been from Carlisle. His real name was Nathaniel, but nobody (not even his own father) addressed him thus- other than Christopher Barling, of course.

His father finally turned to face him. "You _will_ lead the hunt tonight, and that is my final word on the matter. I am far too old to be doing this and it is your duty as my son to take over." Carlisle opened his mouth to argue back, but his father raised his hand to stop him. "No arguments." Carlisle closed his mouth. His heart sank, knowing that Christopher would never allow him near his daughter again.

* * *

Carlisle was stood in front of the mob- for there was no other word to describe them- attempting to draw their attention. He raised his voice, waved his arms about (feeling foolish as he did so), and tried to whistle, but to no avail. Suddenly, a loud shout of "QUIET!" came through the crowd. Weaving through to join him at the front was- ah, it was Elinor. Carlisle smiled at her, grateful, finding it difficult to concentrate all of a sudden. As she drew level, he shook himself. He must concentrate on the task at hand.

His father's method was ineffective, he felt. They confined to the main streets and not too far into the woods around, when all the disappearances were farther afield. As he told the gathered crowd his stratagem, he noticed with glee that Elinor was nodding along and smiling at him. This empowered him to carry on talking, greeted by a rousing cheer from the people. They decided to break off into groups, and a few men at the front walked up to join Carlisle. Suddenly, Elinor was at his shoulder. She looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes.

"I know that usually women are not permitted to join in the hunt, but seeing as my father has forfeited his place, I was hoping to take it, if that's alright," she said, blinking rapidly. Carlisle stood gaping at her for a long moment, then recovered himself.

"Err, I, um," he swallowed, "yes, I should think that wouldn't present any problems, right?" he turned to the men beside him, all of whom instantly stopped gawking at Elinor. They nodded and grunted their approval in response. Carlisle smiled serenely at her. She smiled widely, momentarily rendering him speechless. He blinked a few times, then cleared his throat, gesturing pathetically in the general direction of the road leading towards the woods. Elinor took his arm.

"Lead the way," she said brightly.

* * *

It was exceedingly difficult to see in the woods. They did have the torch carried by one of the men with them, but it only created more flickering shadows against the trees. Carlisle then thought it might have been better to go during the day, but was reminded that none were able to join him. Dark though it may have been, he was glad of the company. It made him somewhat less nervous, and he was also grateful for the oppourtunity to be closer to Elinor. This thought made him extatically happy, and their closeness created with it a new sensation that he was not familiar with- it coursed through his veins powerfully, both burning him and making him shiver. He carried on through the darkness, careful to help Elinor over prominent branches and rocks, and to move twigs and bushes aside for her. Then, suddenly, one of the men in the group stopped dead in his tracks, holding out his arm to halt their progress. Carlisle then heard something he knew was not caused by any of their party- a faint rustling all around them, he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from exactly, but he didn't like it at all. Seconds later, he heard something he liked even less- silence. Not a peaceful silence, but an eerie absence of any noise that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. He turned very slowly to face his followers, their faces showing the fear he felt. He opened his mouth to tell them to run, when he heard Elinor scream behind him. He wheeled around to see- nothing. The torch had been dropped with a loud clatter and he heard the rest of his party flee. He could see nothing around him, so he turned in what he thought was the direction of the village and ran.

* * *

Elinor opened her eyes. She thought she could see one or two stars in the sky, but they were in a sliver of dim light that illuminated nothing. She looked frantically around herself, seeing nothing. She tried to get up, but something cold restrained her. The thing hissed at her, and the breeze that emanated from the direction of the hiss was an exceptionally intoxicating smell. It was like lavender fields, mixed with morning rain and apple blossoms. She moved towards the scent, inhaling deeply, craving more. It got more intense as she raised her head, and a low moan came from above her. Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting cracking sound, like trees crashing as they were ripped from their roots. The scent moved, as did the icy mass that had held her down. Her head clearing, she scrambled onto all fours to get away. She felt fallen leaves and earth under her hands, so she knew she was in the forest. Wonderful, she thought, that meant there was no light and plenty of obstructions ahead. The commotion only got louder as she moved, and there was the most hideous tearing sound accompanied by an ear-piercing shriek of pain. It was so awful that her heart almost stopped. She scrambled forwards, crouching down. She didn't get far before she tripped over a protruding root. On her way down she hit her head on the tree it belonged to, causing her head to throb. She heard a faint rustling behind her, then a vice-like, chill grip appeared seemingly out of nowhere around her ankles. It pulled her back the way she'd come, talking to her in an unfamiliar tongue. She scrambled her hands over the floor, searching for something to get hold of, but nothing appeared. She tried to dig her nails into the ground, but it was solid from the cold. She frantically felt around, hoping for a tree or a bush. She prayed that God would save her from this demon. At that moment, there was a loud crunching sound, and the grip dropped. She heard shouting in that same unfamiliar tongue, it pierced the night air around her as she ran.

She got further and further from the sickening crunches and angry shouting, thinking perhaps she could make it to the less dense outskirts of the forest. She continually tripped and knew she cut herself a number of times- she could feel her warm blood trickling down her now exposed legs- one of the creatures had ripped her skirt. She fought back the tears that had been flowing freely since she got away from the creatures, knowing that she could do this. She hit various trees along the way, always accompanied by searing pain. She ran through it, although it got harder and harder as she began to feel weaker and weaker the longer she continued. Suddenly, she ran into something else very solid. It clawed at her, and she pushed at its stone cold form, tears returning in force.

"Please," she begged, "no! Don't!" She heard a weak voice that was more beautiful than music reply.

_"Operor non timeo,"_ it said, before it pierced her neck. Before she could scream, she was engulfed in internal flames.


	2. Broken Soul

Carlisle was stumbling frantically through the thick forest, listening carefully to the trees around him, but all he could hear was his own ragged breathing. He continued to run forwards, slipping and tripping more than once. He was trying desperately to find the strength to carry on running, but every time he thought of Elinor's scream of terror, he was almost paralysed with the helplessness it brought him. He'd been running for what seemed an age and didn't appear to be getting anywhere, he could barely see where he was going, for all he knew he could be running in circles. Worse, he could be running towards whatever took Elinor. The tiniest amounts of sunlight started to shine their way through the highest branches on the trees around him. He kept running forwards, his chest beginning to feel constricted. Finally, the trees around him began to thin out. He was nearing the edge of the forest at least. Where that might be, however, was an entirely different matter.

He emerged surprisingly close to their village, in the main outskirts of London. Passers-by gave him very wary looks as he emerged, exhausted and panting onto the main road. Clearly it was not just their village plagued by these attacks. He waved sheepishly at a woman passing with her child. She hid the child behind her and pulled him away as fast as she could. Carlisle dropped his hand, feeling foolish. He set off home, not particularly looking forward to facing Elinor's father.

* * *

Christopher Barling said nothing for a full ten minutes. He was shaking with a hideous fury and glaring with a deep hatred at Carlisle, trying to find words that expressed what he wanted to say. His wife wept soundlessly, curled up in a corner of the room. Carlisle simply stood there, waiting for the attack. There could be nothing Christopher could have to say to him that he didn't deserve. He should not have allowed Elinor to join them on the hunt, they should not have been hunting at night, and he most certainly should not have left her behind in the forest. Those who had returned were leading a search for those who had not, as Elinor was not the only one. Just before he had entered the Barling household, one or two who had been missing returned from the forest, shaken but unharmed. There was no sign of Elinor. Carlisle decided to break the long, painful silence by uttering his apology once more, but he'd barely begun his first words when Christopher raised his hand to silence him.

"Tell me, Nathaniel, will another apology from you bring my daughter back to me?" Carlisle paused.

"No, it will not," he said meekly.

"Then will it undo what you did? Change the ignorant action you took?" Christopher was barely containing his rage.

"No, sir, it won't."

"Then I wonder why you deign to say anything at all," he glared at Carlisle, "and why you are still here rather than out there hunting for my daughter." He didn't know what to say to that. He thought perhaps Christopher was not seeking an answer, so he merely bowed his head, and left.

* * *

All those who had gone missing during the hunt had long since returned to the village. All, except one. Carlisle couldn't look Christopher Barling in the eye anymore. He continued on hunts, although during the day this time. He found no trace of her, no trace of anything except themselves. For three unbearably long days he searched for her, waited for her to come back from the forest, prayed for her safe return, but to no avail. He decided to go out on one last hunt, just in case he spotted something he'd missed, or went around that one corner that hid her.

He walked deeper into the forest than before, meandering through the dense trees as best he could. He pushed aside a net of low-hanging branches to find himself in a clearing. The leaves covering the floor had been disturbed in places, and there were dark patches that could have been blood staining the grass. He looked around, welling up, hoping against hope that this blood did not belong to Elinor. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something move. He ran into the clearing to get a better look, and saw nothing but forest. He spun around, thinking perhaps whatever it was had simply moved, but all around there was nothing. He hung his head and grimaced- he had clearly been imagining it, or it was an animal of some kind. He felt anguished, finally having to face the fact that Elinor was not here. She was not coming back. Fighting tears, he headed back to the village.

From the highest branches of one of the tallest trees in the clearing, Elinor cocked her head to one side, and watched.

* * *

Carlisle awoke one day to screaming. He rushed out of the house to find half the village already there. Abigail Barling knelt next to the well, clutching to it and sobbing. She shrieked with agony. Carlisle's heart stopped for a moment, thinking perhaps they had found Elinor's body. He walked forwards, going to comfort her, when another man held out his arm to stop him.

"It's her husband, Christopher. He's gone," he said somberly. Carlisle was speechless. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but no words came to him. Abigail wailed again, slumping next to the well helplessly. After a few seconds of careful breathing, he found his voice.

"When did this happen?" The man shook his head.

"Nobody is sure. From what we can gather, they went to bed together and she woke up alone. He made no sound, left no trace of himself. We believe he has gone to find his daughter." Carlisle looked puzzled.

"What makes you think that?" The man simply held up a long, blue ribbon. Carlisle recognised it instantly as Elinor's, and reached out for it. "Where was this?" he asked, trying to remember where he had seen it last.

"It was on the bedframe, tied around the top." Carlisle's breath caught in his throat. The last time he had seen this ribbon was when they had left on the hunt. The last time he saw it was the last time he saw Elinor.

* * *

The whole village had turned out to speak of the disappearances. They were now incredibly worried that whomever or whatever had been taking people from around the village could now get into their homes without their noticing. Entire families were gathered around a fire in the centre, parents clutching desperately to their children in fear, all of them not knowing what would come next. Some looked to Carlisle in the hope that he had some master plan that would save them- but he had nothing. He could see no way out of their situation. The same man who had handed him Elinor's ribbon stood, angry.

"We cannot allow whatever this creature is to continue to attack us! We must take the fight to it!" Others stood to voice their agreement. Carlisle then rose, seeing the problem with their plan.

"And how, exactly, do we know where it is? We cannot venture into the forest again, that is clearly _its_ territory. No more innocent blood can be spilled over this."

"Clearly then, we must lure it out into the open! Once we have it cornered, we can slay it once and for all!" Carlisle tried to protest but his voice was drowned out over the cheers. The bloodlust was clear, and it made him afraid.


	3. Still My Heart This Moment

**This chapter is dedicated to Miranda for her wonderful input (*cough*writingtheplot*cough*), Tash for being generally awesome (and a very happy birthday to you bb!), Cait for making me feel good about my taste in music, all the ladies at the SLDL forum in general, and Gorecki by Lamb. Again, my playlist is on my ff profile- it's a joint playlist for this chapter and the previous one. We're getting dark now and I hope you like this chapter :)**

* * *

Carlisle pounded on the locked door, shouting for the others to stop. Either they could not hear him, or they had stopped listening. He continued to slam his fists into the door, praying that just one person would see sense. Outside, two men guarded the door to his temporary prison. They heard his protests, and their consciences told them they should do as he said, but fear overrode their sense of right and wrong. He pounded the door helplessly one last time, then turned around and slid down the door. He sat there for a second, pulling his knees up to his chest. He then crawled over to a corner of the room and slumped against the intersection of the two walls. He pulled his knees up again and rested his chin against them.

Outside, the men of the village had gathered angrily to put their hideous plan into action. Abigail Barling was tied to a post, kicking and screaming in terror intermittently, sometimes begging no-one in particular to let her go, they didn't have to do this, they couldn't do this. Many tried to block her out, their better nature eating at them with guilt, while others convinced themselves it was for the greater good. Some had their eyes closed, trying to pretend nothing was happening, that they were dreaming.

The man who'd given Carlisle the ribbon stood looking coldly at Abigail as she struggled and cried. His name was Richard Mayhew, and he was the only one out of the crowd that was completely sure of their course. He had already lost his wife and unborn child to this creature, and this had hollowed him inside. He felt no pity for Abigail. He was almost envious of her position- he could not volunteer himself as that would condemn him to the eternal fires of hell, however her unwilling sacrifice would allow her to escape them. She pleaded with him, begged him for mercy, but he had none to give. He turned his back on her and all the others to scan the line of the trees, hoping that he could see something of the creature that took everything from him, but there was no movement. He gazed there for a long moment, then left to go check on Carlisle.

He approached the house in which they had imprisoned him, surprised that Carlisle appeared to have given up on his vain attempts to escape. He walked around the house to find that the men posted at the door were gone. He frowned, puzzled at their absence. Then the door came into view. Well, what was left of the door did. It had been smashed to pieces, with the fragments of wood scattered across the inside of the doorway. His frown deepened- if Carlisle had broken out, then the wood would be outside the house. He stepped inside, intending on looking around for Carlisle. All he found were the ashen corpses of the two guardsmen. He froze, his eyes widening in panic. The creature had returned.

* * *

Carlisle listened to the heartbreaking screams from Abigail in anguish, wishing he could do something to help her. He banged his head on the wall behind him, angry at himself for not taking leadership of the village sooner. Suddenly, he heard a loud crunching noise from the doorway, and when he looked up there was a space where the door should have been. Startled, he stood up tentatively and walked as quietly as he could towards the door. Stepping around the chunks of wood on the floor, he carefully poked his head out of the door. He could see nothing around him- even the guards seemed to have left. He thought maybe their consciences got the better of them and they fled, although he had no theories for the door exploding. He stepped out of the house, looking around hoping to see someone, but the area was deserted. He left to check what was happening in the centre of the village, to see if it was too late to stop them. He prayed that Abigail had stopped screaming because they let her go.

* * *

Elinor waited until Carlisle was completely out of sight before she returned, dragging the bodies of the two guards. Although she had just fed on them, she still didn't trust herself around Carlisle enough. She burned with shame when she remembered what had happened when she had tried to tell her father she was alright...

_She walked soundlessly into her old home. She entered the bedroom that belonged to her parents, holding her breath so she wasn't tempted. She was surprised that she didn't feel the need to breathe at all, it made her uncomfortable but didn't make her dizzy or faint. She could get used to this, she thought. She tied her ribbon around the bedpost so Carlisle would know it was her that had been, and gingerly lifted her father out of the bed. She ran outside, deep into the forest. She was already setting him down when he awoke, bewildered. He shrank away from her cold arms, then looked up at her. His mouth opened and his eyes filled with tears as he regarded his only daughter standing before him. She smiled weakly. She had brought him here to tell him about her new life, partly so he would stop worrying but also partly because she wanted him to stop giving Carlisle such a hard time. She sucked in a gasp of air to explain, when all of a sudden she was not Elinor anymore. She was a hunter, and her father the prey. He continued to gaze lovingly at her, and the human side of her still left wept as she devoured him._

She threw the two guards into the house, then positioned them against the wall so they could not be seen from the outside. Richard Mayhew would pay for what he planned to do to her mother. She would show mercy to the men that went along with him, they would die quickly and painlessly, but she had no compassion for _him_.

* * *

Carlisle stood looking bewildered in the centre of the village. All the men that had been part of the plan were still there, but they seemed to be asleep. He went over to one of them, and turned him over. He didn't move or react, and he didn't appear to be breathing. He felt very cold. Carlisle's hand snapped back when he realised that this man was dead. He checked a few of the others, and it was the same story each time. He felt bile rising in his throat, fearing for everyone else in the village.

"Carlisle?" He turned around to find Abigail Barling standing, holding onto the post she had been previously tied to. He ran over to her, surprised more than anything.

"Are you hurt?" She shook her head. "What happened here?" She looked around, just as confused as he, shaking her head more rapidly.

"I don't know! I heard murmuring behind me, and then I heard silence. I thought they had left me here to die, but then the ropes fell from around me. Somebody freed me, but when I looked to see who was there, all I could see was..." she gestured around at the bodies littered around them. He nodded, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"Let's get inside, we can deal with all of this in the morning."

* * *

Mere moments after Carlisle and Abigail had left, Richard came into the centre. He stopped when he saw all his men laying, lifeless on the floor. Panic flooded him, and he ran towards his house, planning on barricading himself inside until morning light, when he found his way blocked by the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Elinor stood in front of him, her eyes a terrible shade of crimson. She advanced towards him slowly, smiling menacingly at the expression of pure terror etched across his features. He spent a few seconds trying to speak, squeaking pathetically a few times. Elinor laughed at him. He was weak.

"Was it...did you..." he said faintly, swallowing loudly before he gestured around at the scene around them. She laughed softly this time, surveying her handiwork.

"Yes," she said, watching his fear mix with surprise as he heard her voice, as it was considerably more mellifluous than before, "I did. I don't like what you tried to do to my mother, Richard." She enjoyed watching him squirm. His nature told him she was just a woman, he could overpower her, but his instincts told him she was something entirely...other. "Did you really think there would be no penance for what you did?" She cocked her head to one side as she drew level with him, careful not to breathe. She didn't want to rush his death, neither did she want to lower herself by drinking from him. She traced her fingertips over his shoulders as she walked around him, feeling him shiver under her icy touch. She began to walk away, planning to taunt him a little more, when she heard him move. She wheeled around to see him trying to run. She pouted, annoyed. She caught up with him easily, lifting him up from behind and then pushing him towards the floor so he would land on his back. With a crunch and a sickening shriek of pain, she heard his bones break in his back. "Ah, ah, ah," she said, running her nails down his chest, which sliced through his shirt easily. He cried in pain, looking into her blood red eyes.

"Please," he said, choking with the pain, "have mercy on me!" She sneered at him, and leant forward so her face was mere inches from his.

"Know only that your actions brought you here," she whispered, "and I have no mercy to give you. Retribution awaits, and it's going to be excruciating!" She laughed gleefully as she dragged him, crying helplessly, into the woods.


End file.
